


My Soul To Keep

by Esperata



Series: A Picture Tells... [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Angels, Demons, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: James T. Kirk knew he was special. He knew this because he had his very own angel and demon offering him advice.





	My Soul To Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Because 'Good Omens' (Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman) is quite possibly my favourite book.

James T. Kirk knew he was special. He knew this because he had his very own angel and demon offering him advice.

The angel would frequently rail at him about doing the morally responsible thing, and damn the bureaucratic red tape. The demon however would equally often remind him of the rules and regulations to which Jim was sworn to obey.

Mostly this made Kirk feel chosen. Sometimes however he worried he was simply mad.

The problem was primarily that no-one else could recognise that these were not regular people. Jim theorised that their other-worldly attributes existed out of phase with regular reality. But, the fact only he saw the wings – that was worrying.

Jim saw the angel with soft white wings and a gentle glow that lit his blue eyes. The demon had pointy ears and dark, sharp wings.

While the angel spoke with a lyrical cadence, the demon’s words were clipped and curt

The one was warm, verging on hot-headed, while the other was cool and almost cold-hearted.

And yet at times he found himself confusing the two. 

When McCoy was yelling insults about the admiralty, or whichever alien species they happened to be at odds with, it was sometimes hard to remember his angelic roots.

And if Spock were rationally explaining the complicated intricacies of diplomacy, Kirk quite often forgot that he was supposed to be on guard against what the best intentions supposedly led to.

Sometimes he wondered what he did to deserve two such unusual advisors.

And sometimes he preferred to simply believe he’s mad and not worry about it.

(*)

The day had been stressful and unconsciously the two supernatural beings wound up together in the observation lounge. They didn’t _have_ to stay there together if they didn’t want to but also there was no-one else on board with whom they could relax in the same way. 

Who else would understand the hassle of _not_ smiting someone for being unreasonable and bigoted? Or the frustration of working to entangle the honest crew in bureaucracy only to find Starfleet were two steps ahead. 

So they stood together quietly, not arguing for once, and just letting the tension ease away. McCoy shifted his shoulders and stretched out his wings, unintentionally brushing them against the demon’s sleek feathers.

“Sorry,” he apologised automatically.

“It is no matter,” Spock responded quietly.

McCoy glanced sideways at him and wondered if he dared ask. He’d met his share of demons and something about Spock didn’t feel right. For a start he wasn’t inspiring the requisite in-built loathing theoretically standard when dealing with demons.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” he began awkwardly, “but you’re not quite as… demonic, as a lot of demons.”

Predictably, Spock stiffened, clearly affronted. However he did answer the unspoken question.

“My mother was human. I only inherited my paranormal attributes from my father.”

“So you’re not fully demon?”

“No.” His wings curled slightly in on himself. “I have too many aspects of her to be accepted by my father’s kind. That is why I was given this position in deep space.”

McCoy looked again and now he knew what to look for he could recognise the subtle signs. The eyes that though dark weren’t cold. Lips that weren’t smiling but were soft and relaxed. Human features that called to the angel.

Features that called for redemption.

The angel looked away before getting drawn in too far.

“So there’s hope for you yet,” he drawled, half teasing, half thoughtful.

Spock raised an eyebrow in denigration before questioning his companion in turn.

“What circumstances led to your receiving this assignment?”

“How’d I end up cut off from any honest connection to nature you mean?” McCoy huffed. “Its punishment for being a fool.”

“A fool?”

“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” McCoy quoted sourly.

“I do not understand.”

The angel sighed.

“I showed a human my wings. She said she wanted to believe… wanted proof… so I let her see.”

“And?” Spock asked, sensing that was not all.

“She tried to cut them off.”

That shocked even the demon.

“I’m still not sure if she wanted them for herself or really did want them as proof in angels.” He stared into his memories. “I was healed but they never mended quite right.”

Suddenly a number of dichotomies about the angel made sense.

His passionate love of humanity that was often displayed simultaneously with his utter despair for the species. His gentle encouragement peppered with explosive demands for people to show a lick of common sense.

It was quite… fascinating. And understandable if he’d had such a cruel reaction to his kindness. It would certainly make Spock feel defensive if someone tried to so much as touch his wings without permission.

Spock eyed the luminous white wings and felt an honest abhorrence that someone would dare to damage them.

Although now he looked, he noticed they were not being kept to the pristine standard he expected for his own wings.

“Perhaps I could groom them for you?” he offered unthinkingly.

The offer clearly startled the angel who glanced swiftly at him. Instinctively his wings curled tighter around him and Spock regretted saying anything.

“Been a long while since I let anyone near my wings,” McCoy said hesitantly.

“Of course,” Spock demurred immediately. “It was merely a suggestion.”

They continued in awkward silence, the demon ram-rod straight and the angel fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Not easy to reach your own wings though,” McCoy finally conceded.

Spock looked back to him.

“Perhaps a mutually beneficial arrangement can be reached?” he proposed.

The angel hesitated a few seconds longer before nodding his agreement.

“Guess that would be… logical.”

“If you’d care to join me in my quarters. I have adequate facilities for grooming.” He gestured ahead of him and felt a spark of invigoration as the angel silently acquiesced.

The chance to try and tempt an angel was a rare gift.

It was a plausible excuse to get closer anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> _
> 
> (\o/)
> 
> /_\
> 
> I'm tempted to expand on this. What do other people think?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [On The Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934825) by [Esperata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata)




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